Is there anything more effeminate than a man running in a drizzle with an umbrella?

I submit that there is not.

It’s one step down from a man who has a lisp and wears dresses.

I suppose I can see if the guy is wearing a $3000 suit, or on his way to a business meeting, or something along those lines. That is excusable and/or necessary. But if it’s some Joe Blow who’s running to his 9 to 5 in Dockers and a Golf Shirt for casual Friday, I don’t see where the umbrella is necessary.

At least if you are a dress-wearing-lisper, that is your thing. It is who you are and, presumably, it is the image you are trying to present to the world.

That, I can accept.

But the umbrella guy doesn’t seem to have a clue that he looks silly or feminine in any way.

I just shake my head in sadness at these fellas and think to myself, “We could never be.”

I do the same thing with men who call dinner “supper”.

I hate that word so much it makes my skin crawl.

I do not ‘sup’.

I ‘dine’.

Call me fancy.

Any man who either asks me what I had for “supper”, or if I would like to go out for “supper” will be immediately cast onto my un-datable list.

Many people may not realize why I have such disgust and contempt for this word, but I would like you to remember that I am from Boston. The word “supper” becomes the noise “SUHPAH”, which is so truly obnoxious I want to vomit when I hear it --- ironically ruining any desire I had to consume a meal to begin with.

And while I am on a roll here, I may as well bring up another un-datable feature that pushes my irritation button: The Corny Jokester.

You know the guy who thinks he’s funny when he uses puns or tells ‘jokes’ that are so obvious you can see the ending coming from 18 miles away? 

You know … jokes that are older than I am?

Or worse, they are just not funny and leave you with that weird awkwardness at the end of it in which you are expected to respond in some way.

There was this one guy who was interested in dating me. He was fairly attractive and not offensive in odor, so I figured ‘What the hell’ and gave him a trial run.

Here’s one of the ‘jokes’ he told me:

A redneck decides to get married and he brings this girl home to meet his dad. She’s beautiful. Stunning. Great body, beautiful face, great personality. After some time went by the redneck asked his dad what he though of her.

The dad says, “Get rid of her!”

The redneck, all upset, asks, “Why?”

The dad says, “If she wasn’t good enough for her own family, she’s not good enough for us.”

… awkward …

Later it was cold and I mentioned, “Ooo … it got cold.”

He says, “I’ll warm you up.”

Shudder

I bet that guy also says “Supper”.

Needless to say, that whole thing did not work out.

The way I see it, you are either funny or you are not. If you have to resort to telling lame jokes, you are not.

I can’t date someone who is not funny.

How would he be able to cope with me on a day to day basis?

What kind of conversations would we have?

How would he feel about my blog?

Would he take everything I say and do seriously?

Would he possibly sit me down and suggest counseling?

I don’t think I’d like that, and neither would he.

Or how about the guys who have to prove to you that they “get it” by laughing like an obnoxious clown instead of merely issuing the chuckle of approval the comment no doubt deserved.

This guy is also NOT FUNNY. Just because you can recognize humor while watching TV, doesn’t mean you can reproduce it in real life.

Yeah, I get that you ‘get it’. Stop with the over-extended, fake, overly annoying, hyena-like laughter before I get up and leave.

Ya know what?

I’m just going to get up and leave.

It’ll be better for both of us that way.

Un-datable.

Peace!

 

I am very happy to see that the Lamisil ad at the top of this thing has been replaced.

 

I’m not exactly thrilled that it has been replaced with a giant eye … which is almost as creepy, but I guess I should be happy that I don’t have to keep watching that friggin little monster crawl under that toenail anymore.

Man! That was so bogus.

People should have been vehemently protesting that ad.

 

I realize that I have been neglecting my faithful readers … all three of you … but you were all warned beforehand that school was starting. I still think of you all the time, in a reminiscent sort of way.

 

School has been keeping me busy, but I have to admit, it is a pretty light course load. The only class I have any interest in is my photography class.

 

So I finally managed to take a moment and get a haircut and a brow wax yesterday.

 

I hate paying a fortune for a haircut.

My hair is long and straight and all you have to do is cut off the dead ends. These people do not have to make a project out of it. I expect to be in and out of there in like 10 minutes tops. Taking forever and making like it is a big intricate project does not impress me.

They can just take a pair of kitchen scissors and hack off the ends.

I don’t care. Whatever.

As long as I don’t have to spend my whole day in there.

 

So … I think that’s what she did.

 

At least I had the experience of having the best hair washing of my life.

I wanted to ask the girl to move in with me.

It was phenomenal.

 

 

So, here’s something:

The only time I watch TV is Sunday nights. The Simpsons and Family Guy are on and sometimes I enjoy hanging out on a Sunday evening and staring at them. Well, as we all know, the World Series is going on right now.

I have no idea who’s even in it. (Maybe Oakland? Maybe someone else?)

(OK - I just checked - it's the Cardinals vs. The Mets.)

 All I know is that the Sox are not, nor are the dreaded and hated Yankees. So, I ask you – what the hell do I care? I can’t watch to see the Sox try to win and I can’t watch to pray that the Yankees lose.

So why is it cutting into the only thing I ever watch on television?

 

I think they should have a special channel for these events instead of ruining the TV viewing of normal people who have no interest in The World Series at all … or Sunday football, for that matter.

 

I know they have sports channels like ESPN and NESN … so why do we have to be subjected to these intrusions on regular television? Back when I was watching TV regularly I would go on and on about this intrusion. The Simpsons season premier was always put off for weeks because of friggin Baseball.

That is just so irritating.

Get your own channel, Sports Enthusiasts!

Leave us Cartoon Nuts out of it!

 

There’s this lip-gloss that, I think, may be out to get me.

I really like the way it looks and all, but I may have to chuck it out the window soon.

It all started with J.
She just looked so pretty one night, so I asked her what she had on her lips that was so sparkly and enticing. She handed me this lip-gloss and told me to try it.

So I did.

It looked so sweet that I decided to go out and buy my own.

So, after the purchase I tried it out and saw the prettiness for myself.
I loved it.
I looked damn good.

The lip-gloss was somewhat gummy, though.

I was driving in my car, looking all extra pretty with my new lip-gloss on.
I was feeling so cool I thought it would be a good idea to smoke a cigarette.
I don’t know why. Possibly I felt that urge that smokers get. Possibly I was feeling a little too kissable and, having no one to plant one on, needed to destroy my kissability. Who knows? But I smoked.

When I was done smoking, I went to flick it out the window. The gumminess from the lip-gloss adhered to my fingers and the butt-flick fell lame. Instead of flying out the window and out of my life, it flew back in the window and into my face.

There I was, driving at about 40mph, with a gummy lit cigarette bouncing off my eye socket and into my lap. I was forced to pull over, screaming and panicky, as it burnt through the pocket of my sweat pants and into my flesh.

I called J and left a message on her voicemail that said, “I’ve had a lip-gloss related mishap. Call me.”

After I recovered from the whole thing, I threw the lip gloss in my makeup bag and chalked it up as a learning experience.

Note to self: Don’t smoke after applying the lip-gloss.
Got it.

Ok. Fine. I had a little incident.
On with my life.

So, about two days later, I opened my makeup bag only to again be reminded of the excessive gumminess of the lip-gloss as my hand came out of the bag covered in it.

Upon closer inspection, I realized that everything in the bag was also covered in it.

When I say that this stuff is ‘gummy’, I don’t feel like I am quite conveying the sticky gooiness accurately. This stuff is so gummy that dish detergent wouldn’t touch it. I still can’t figure out how to de-gooify all of my belongings.

I did the best I could with a wet towel and secured the cap, which had come loose causing all of the damage, onto the lip-gloss tightly.

I threw everything back in the marginally clean makeup bag and tried to forget.

Forgetting wasn’t easy when 2 days later it happened again, though.
This time slathering my entire purse with the leakage.

I swear this lip-gloss is out to ruin me.
I told J the whole story.
Apparently she had neglected to tell me that in extreme temperatures this stuff demonstrably explodes.

Well.
Now I know.
… and knowing is half the battle.

Back by popular demand! The Blog Entry!

So, you wanna know what upsets me?
Those gardening clogs.

You know the things.
Those rubber clog-like dealies that are meant to be worn in the garden?
One day, some asshole thought that it would be a good idea to run around town with these things on and some other asshole said, ‘That seems like a good idea.”

The next thing you know, it is some kind of horrible fashion trend that makes my head pound with terror.
 
Ok – this is not a fashion trend.
I’m no Fashion Guru, but I can tell you this much:
Anything you can buy at Wal-Mart, in various hues, for $2.99 is NOT a fashion trend!

Look at those things!
First of all, they come in horrible colors. I think there are three selections: Obnoxious Orange, Barf-inducing Blue, and Putrid Pink. There may also be a Yak-on-Me Yellow.

Completely clueless women choose to match a loathsome shirt to their horribly abominable shoes and call it a day.

Secondly, they are atrociously ugly … and apparently made of rubber. I can’t even begin to imagine the stench that is trapped in those babies.

I’m upset that people actually leave the house with these things on their feet. How can you build an entire outfit off of one pair of ugly shoes (that should never be worn beyond the garden), still hold your head up high, not feel like a circus clown, and walk around in public?

These shoes upset me so much that every time I see them worn in public I get a little angry. When I see a woman wearing these things around South Station, I have an uncontrollable urge to tackle the bitch and tear those things off her feet.

Is it just me?
It’s just me, isn’t it?